Canterbury Lane

You squint into the light that pierces through the green foliageTinting everything flowery emeraldIt blares at you so intensely your eyes stingYou don’t pay much attention to that thoughYou continue down the path in high spiritsDown Canterbury LaneThe crisp morning air brushes against your back like an old friendYou trudge through the sand covering the forest floor

It sticks in every crevice you don’t want it toYour thread bare socks Your hairYour sky blue poloAnd especially your shoesYou’re going to need to clean out your Chuck-T’s later

A sea of blue shirts before youA sea of blue shirts surrounding behindAll belonging to campers Bright young minds with a passionA dream

It drives lively spirits to sing a ballad Or paint the worlds next masterpieceMaybe even to write a symphony that moves the hearts of all who hearTo become one of the greats

Or maybe, some don’t want to be like any of the greatsSome of those young dreamers want to forge their own greatThey want the next generation to walk down Canterbury Lane aspiring to be like themTo follow in their footsteps that have long since been blown away

Maybe some past dreamer’s sand now resides in my dusty pair of Chuck-T’s